Kolaphizó
by aaliyahcrosses
Summary: Because it was the youngest Pevensie who was hit by the blow the hardest.


When they fell out of the wardrobe, everyone, more or less, was in a state of shock. Edmund had contented himself in watching the others despite the tears running freely from his eyes, for he feared he might go mad.

Peter paced back and forth, looking like he did when there were problems in court and he had to make a solution. He was, in some way, panicking. But one look at him and one could be sure his eyes were glistening with tears.

Susan was outright crying. "'Twas as I quoth, 'tis not?" She asked in a whisper as tears streamed down her face. "We should not have followed the stag into the thicket. Now look at us! Look at us!" Her voice was rising in every word she spoke.

Edmund looked down at his hands—he was a young boy again. And it wasn't fair at all. Perhaps... Perhaps this was all just a nightmare. But no. The sounds of his elder sister's sobbing... And Lucy... Oh, Lucy!

The queen turned little girl, as soon as she realized they were out of Narnia, had stood, staring at the wardrobe.

Edmund was worried. He called her repeatedly. She would not respond.

From behind him he could hear Susan crying, and the young voice of Peter. They sounded like they were arguing.

He pulled touched her; she felt deathly cold to touch.

Maybe she was crying, like the rest of them. Only quieter. But that was proven wrong as he saw the glimpses of Lucy's face. She looked pale, but there were no traces of tears in her wide eyes.

Susan seemed to have been offended by this.

"I know not how thee could be so unfeeling, sister," the older Pevensie said as she turned away from Peter and their argument. "Thou dost love Narnia most."

A weak protest from Peter, which was quickly silenced by a glare from Susan.

She continued. "Yet not a speck of tear hadst appeared in thine eyes."

Susan looked reproachfully at Lucy, and Peter looked down because for some reason, he _agreed_. They did not feel what Edmund felt as he looked at Lucy: that he was merely looking at a shell, and Lucy, the Valiant Queen, had retreated in herself.

And he was right. Lucy, if she had heard what Susan had said would have grown mad. But all the words the once Gentle Queen said had passed through, and did not reach the girl's ears. She felt numb. She _was_ numb.

* * *

That night he saw Lucy rose up from the bed and, with her candle, walked out. He followed her (like he did, many moons ago in Narnia and just a night ago here, in England) to the spare room. He stayed outside, watched through the gap as she sat on the floorboards and stared at the wardrobe, as if willing it to open by itself and take her back to the land where she _belonged_. To the place she called _home_.

She did it every night.

He followed her every night too.

* * *

It was hard, reverting back to their young selves, Edmund supposed. One must be quiet when adults are speaking: it felt queer, for they just came from a world where their word is the law. They had to relearn the language, relearn some names. Unlike the other children, who had to act mature, _they_ have to act like children for the people just would not understand.

"Lu. Lucy," he called out to her.

She was not touching her plate, and Mrs. Macready looked glaringly at them. Peter and Susan were on the other side of the table. Peter glanced at them and then at his plate as Susan looked disinterestedly at her food, but both nevertheless eating. The Professor was not around—he usually was _always_ in the library.

Edmund reached out, touched Lucy's shoulder.

She flinched. She felt him this time, at least. It had already been a week, and Lucy had still not spoken a word to any of them. And when she moves, she does it mechanically. She was barely in the house. It was like living with a ghost.

"Lu, you have to eat," the words felt thick on his tongue, but he had to speak like that lest Mrs. Macready turn suspicious.

She blinked and thankfully took the spoon this time. She began eating, but she was barely even chewing her food.

Lucy was the first one to leave the dining room.

Mrs. Macready turned to them. "Is your sister sick?"

The three older siblings sent wary glances to each other.

"No," Susan shook her head. "Not exactly. She's... She's just homesick, I think."

And that wasn't a lie, was it?

* * *

It was Susan who first tried to convince Lucy out of her stupor.

"Lucy, I'm sorry. I did not mean to say that to you. 'Twas mean of me, sister mine." She spoke in a mixture of their Narnian ways and their English language. She tried very hard to coax Lucy out of her shell—to no avail. The girl was mum, and looked on blankly at them as if she didn't hear a thing Susan said.

The elder sister moved away—appaled that Lucy's situation was her fault.

Peter was next, showering his favourite sister with affection and care. The little girl cared for none; she did not show she even felt or saw anything.

Edmund wondered if he was like that, after that horrid boarding school in which he went. Only much more snappish and mad. He wondered how Lucy would at least always try to be nice to him. Because unlike his sister, Edmund was feeling his patience already gone.

* * *

That night, instead of watching her through the door, he entered the room and sat beside her.

The pale moonlight and the candle were the only things illuminating the room. She looked so _gone_ , so sad, so pale. She looked like a forlorn ghost. And he wanted to help her.

"How dost thou do it, Edmund? How dost thou keep the pain at bay?" She asked in a mere whisper, without looking at him.

Edmund touched his sister's hand. "I don't, Lu. I let it in."

The answer seem to have surprised her, and she turned to look at him. "Then how...?"

"I embrace it. And then, I let go."

She squeezed his hand, as if to make him explain further.

He let go of her and stood up, opening the door of the wooden wardrobe which held the secret of everything they've done.

She gasped, and then made a motion to stop him by raising a hand, which he took to pull her up to her feet. _He_ was the one who lead her in the wardrobe this time. As they reached the end of it, he made her touch the wooden edge of the wardrobe.

It hit her then, that Narnia really was out of her reach. She began crying.

Edmund engulfed his little sister in a hug and said nothing.

After the moments of few sniffles and sobs, Lucy quieted down.

"Dost thou think...?" She mumbled into him. "'Tis silly. However..."

"What?"

She pulled away to try, perhaps, and get a glimpse of his face despite the coats and the horrible lighting in the room. "Dost thou think the Professor shalt try to find the missing coats?"

"By Aslan's mane..." Edmund gasped as he realized they've left the four coats in Narnia. Despite the fact that the Professor looked kind and actually believed Lucy's story the first time she talked about the wardrobe, would he believe it if they said it was in another world? And also... " _What_ would Mrs. Macready say?"

A pause, and then Lucy began to giggle uncontrollably. She tried to cover her mouth, but it was of no use.

Edmund smiled at his sister. This may be England, and they might not be kings or queens here, but he was quite sure that Lucy will be as Valiant as she was in Narnia. That Lucy will be Lucy no matter what world. And if not... well... he just had to make sure of that.

* * *

 **A/N:** There! It's done! I'm glad that TillyBananalover and Mellpen00 for pointing out that something happened. I fixed it! :) I'm real sorry, I don't even know what happened actually. But yeah, this is it!


End file.
